


untitled

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-04
Updated: 2010-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...a woman walks through the door...</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing poems and short stories before slash fiction. And I'll most likely continue to write them so there ya go:)

She is at the bar with a couple friends and a date. The man who sits beside her has only been in her life a week and already he’s pushing for sex. He’s begged twice to take her home from the bar and even though she’s turned him down both times he still looks hopeful. He’s a nice guy and she wonders if maybe she should.

Then a woman walks through the door with an air of confidence, of knowing exactly who she is and what she’s worth. She watches her as she glides to the bar and asks for a drink. A glass tumbler with brown liquid over ice is set in front of the woman seconds later.

She wonders what the liquor is the woman requested. It has a cool look to it, smooth and fine and easy to take. The woman lays down some money and picks up the glass in a slender, strong hand. She stares self-consciously as the glass is raised to the bow of her lips. She sips and swallows gracefully. She notices, can’t help it really, that the woman drinks like she walks, with an assertive elegance.

She watches the brown liquid as it reflects off the ice and the overhead lighting like it can only dance among them, not drown like her High Ball already has. The woman’s drink will not be melting into tastelessness, this much is clear. For a second she thinks to ask the woman what she ordered, then becomes afraid of talking to her, let alone being near her.

The woman wears a red wraparound dress and high black heels. Her black hair hangs low to her waist and her cleavage is full of too little olive breast. She knows because she finds herself watching it as much as the rosy shine of her smile. The woman is exotic and sensual, all femininity with a body that seems to crave stimulation. Or, at least, she thinks so.

She feels like she’s undressing her with her gaze, embarrassingly turns her head away to look at her date, then turns back a minute later to an empty space where the woman previously sat. She feels the loss in her gut as she looks all around the bar. The woman is gone, disappeared from her life as quickly as she’d entered into it.

She takes a swig of her High Ball, frowning a little at the watery mess that sits in a bowl on her tongue. Her date talks about his business and money and she becomes immediately bored by his self-centeredness. He has been talking about himself non-stop for the past hour and her friends are wrapped up in a conversation about a self-help book they just finished reading with their book club.

Suddenly she feels something brush against her bare shoulder and shudders. It’s the woman walking by her as she comes back from the bathroom. She watches her go back to her seat, her chest full of heat and ragged breaths, as she lowers herself slowly into the stool and crosses her legs. She catches the woman catching her stare and blushes.

The woman is smiling softly at her, as if she knows the effect she is having, and is glad. She smiles back shyly, feeling like a teenager in the midst of a first crush. Her date asks her a question, she knows he does, but she is captivated by the woman, enthralled with the way she is looking so deep into her.

The woman cocks her head at an angle, her hair cascading like a waterfall over a shoulder. They play this melody with their eyes, she and this woman, only she doesn’t recognize it. The notes aren’t hers but she could swear they sound right to her ears. She fights not to hear it, not to look and want and wish and feel. She fights, but fails when the woman licks her lips seductively.

It is at this moment that she knows she has never felt such passion for another, that she has to experience it with the woman. It is at this moment that she realizes the woman is extending an invitation in her gentle gaze. An invitation she will be unable, will refuse, to decline.


End file.
